


Missing

by thomas_dale



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Kidnapping tw, One Shot, damn it, not even edited whoop, spooky shit, this is what happens when you're in too deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomas_dale/pseuds/thomas_dale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex Reagan has been missing for four days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay hi so this is kind of crappy and probably really ooc but hey it's 1 in the morning so why not post shit fanfiction amiright  
> (Also it's based on a mass textpost discussion that happened on tumblr at some point)  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I am so sorry.

Four days. It’s been four days since Alex Reagan had disappeared. Four days since that haunting phone call.  
‘No you don’t understand,’ she had persisted, whilst bickering with Dr. Strand over the phone. ‘It’s not in my head! There is someone or something following me. I know there is. Whenever I look out the window of my office, there’s always a hooded person standing across the street. I came home one time to find a dagger stabbed into my front door. A dagger, Richard. Who the hell nails a dagger into someone’s door unless they’re trying to send a very clear message. We’re on to something, and someone doesn’t want us finding out anymore than we already know.’  
‘The dagger could just be kids pulling pranks,” Strand had replied. ‘Teenagers do that sort of stuff all the time. Once, a group of boys propped a giant wooden stake against my door, trapping me in my own home. it’s not that uncommon. I highly doubt that-’ But before he could finished he heard a loud thud on the other line.  
‘What was that?’ Alex whispered quickly.  
‘Alex? Are you okay?’  
There was another thud, followed by a crash, and then Alex screaming.  
‘Alex! What’s going-”  
‘Richard!’  
Crash.  
‘Help!’  
Crash.  
“They’re-”  
Her voice was then muffled, there was another crash, a thud, and then the beeping of the line going dead. He tried calling her back multiple times, but was it always went directly to voicemail. That was four days ago.

 

Strand had flown into Seattle the next morning and stormed into the Pacific Northwest Stories studio.  
“Where is she?!” he questioned, after finding Nic.  
“We don’t know,” he replied. “One of her neighbors called the police last night after hearing the screaming. When they arrived at her apartment, the place was a complete mess. They couldn’t find any fingerprints, but they did find a handkerchief soaked in chloroform-”  
“Chloroform?!” The doctor repeated, eyes widening. He should’ve listened to her.  
“Yeah. We’re pretty sure that whoever took her probably has to do with her podcast. I mean, we’ve gotten some ….interesting…. feedback before so….” said Nic.  
“Well I can’t just sit here and wait for the police to find her.” Possibly dead he added in his mind.

The next three days consisted of non stop research. Strand had eventually narrowed it down to one location: a forest about 30 minutes away. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.  
He parked at the edge where the towering trees met the street and got out. Leaving his vehicle behind, he made his way into the woods beyond.  
It only took 15 minutes of walking until Strand saw it; there was a clearing amongst the trees and in that clearing was a massive, round, flat stone. It was like a stage made of rock. It was a perfect circle, and was as flat as a table top. Drawn on the stone, in what seemed like black chalk, was a giant pentagram. Laying in the middle of the star was Alex.  
Strand called out her name as he ran up to her. He knelt next to her and turned her over onto her back. She was breathing normally, and looked as if she was sleeping peacefully, but she looked dreadful. Her face, neck, and arms, were covered in bruises and cuts, her coffee brown hair was stained red, and her lips were not only chapped, but had scabs forming on them.  
“Oh Alex,” he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, and she jumped when she saw him next to her. She bolted up and moved a few feet away from him.  
“Alex?” he asked. “It’s okay it’s me.”  
She stared at him with suspicion. He could see fear in her eyes. She seemed like a feral cat; untrusting. Strand held out a hand, as if to show her he meant no harm.  
“Hey. It’s just me.” She tilted her head slightly, confused.  
“Alex it’s me! Richard! Don’t tell me you don’t remember me! I’ve been so worried! We all have. Everyone has been looking everywhere for you. The police, Nic-”  
She shifted when she heard Nic’s name. That she recognized.  
“Alex…. please say something. Anything.”  
She hesitantly opened her mouth, but no words came out. She seemed just as surprised as Strand was. She couldn’t speak. She physically couldn’t speak.  
“Okay we need to get you to hospital,” Strand whispered in complete shock. He stepped forward to the journalist. She flinched, but didn’t move away. He came closer to her and took her ice cold hand in his own, warm one.  
“Do you think you can you walk for a while?” he asked. She nodded. He helped her off the stone stage and they began walking back through the forest.  
Strand pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Nic.  
“I found her,” he said when he picked up.  
“What?!”  
“Yes. Meet us on 67th at the edge of the forest. My car is parked there.” He hung up and looked at Alex. She was limping along next to him, and she kept glancing nervously over at him. She truly didn’t know who he was. She didn’t trust him. She had changed.  
When they got to the edge of the forest, Nic was waiting there, pacing nervously. When Alex saw him, She limped faster and hugged him tightly. She remembered him, and trusted him. She was afraid of Strand; a complete stranger. 

Even at the hospital, they couldn’t find out was wrong with Alex’s voice. She had no signs of stitches or anything near her throat, but after X-rays, it was discovered that her voice box was simply…. gone.  
“I don’t know how this could’ve happened,” said the doctor looking after Alex. “Her larynx is completely gone, but she shows no signs of surgery. She does have a sprained ankle, and has lost a lot of blood due to the lacerations all over her body.  
“What about the memory loss?” Strand asked.  
“Since she arrived here yesterday, when you brought her in, She’s been asked questions and answered them by writing on pieces of paper. It seems as if she’s erased the entirety of last year from her brain. This is also confusing. We haven’t seen anything like Ms. Reagan’s case before. We’ve dealt with many kidnappings, but none with such mysterious results as this.”  
“So she remembers nothing from the past year,” Strand repeated.  
“Yes.”

Why her? Strand wondered, while he sat next to her hospital bed. Alex was asleep, so he could visit her without making her upset. She doesn’t deserve this. He rested his hand on top of hers and gazed at her bruised, scratched up face. She doesn’t remember him, the black tapes, the podcast, anything. And on top of that, her voice had vanished. Her career in radio was practically done for. Strand would never hear her voice again. Everything was gone. And it was his fault.


End file.
